Just Like You
by missred251
Summary: Steve Rogers always hoped that his son wouldn't end up with his health problems. But as his wife points out, maybe being like Steve is better than he thinks. Drabble-ish, family fluff and general cuteness.


**Author's Note: This fic was inspired by an adorable drawing and a fantastic headcanon that can be found are the link below. I take no credit for either the art or the headcanon, as it was though up and arted by someone else (greyseas on Deviantart who's other art you should definitely check out). But the fic itself is, of course, original. **

**(I would put a link to the headcanon plus artwork, but for some reason it's not letting me insert a link! My apologies!)  
**

* * *

"Dad! Dad, look at me!" came James' voice. Steve instantly swung around to check on his son to see his 8-year-old come running as fast as his skinny legs would carry him into the 15th level of Stark Tower. He was held up by shiny new leg braces and looking wildly excited. As he reached his father, he bent over, wheezing slightly as he tried to draw a breath. Steve instantly reached for the nearest inhaler, this one in a kitchen cupboard next to some other medications. He bent down and handed it to James, his face lined with worry, eyes sad in the way that Darcy said could melt the heart of the devil himself.

Steve Rogers had good reason to be nervous when he and Darcy decided to have a kid. It wasn't that he didn't feel ready. They had been married for two years and having kids was something they both really wanted. Steve was worried because, even though he'd been shot full of super serum, his genes were still crap. Darcy had never known him before all the muscles and strength, but he'd been one giant mess of health problems. Having kids, however, was something he'd always dreamed about, thinking that he'd never be able to, leading a life like he did. Falling asleep for 70 years only convinced him of that. But once a certain buxom brunette had been added to his life equation, he thought that maybe the pitter-patter of little feet could actually be a reality, even if the normal house and white picket fence part didn't quite work out.

When James Abraham Rogers was brought into the world a little earlier than nine months after a long-overdue vacation for the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan, he and Darcy were ecstatic. A small part of him however, while Darcy cooed over the fact that he was his father in miniature, soft blond hair and big, grey-blue eyes, silently prayed that he wasn't _too much_ like his father.

It seemed his prayers would go unanswered, however, as baby James developed cold after cold, and it was common for him to have a constantly runny nose. Their personal physician, the one and only Bruce Banner, said that James was the most colicky baby he'd seen in a while.

As he got older, there really was no escaping the asthma. Darcy had it as well, so sadly little James had to be watched as he ran rampant around Stark Tower, inhalers stashed in the places he liked to frequent. Uncle Tony had one in his garage, Uncle Bruce had one in the lab and the office level had several, a surprisingly calm Director Fury helping the little guy out on several occasions when he'd decided to take some stairs on his way to visit Aunt Tasha or Uncle Clint.

The one upside, Steve found, was that living in this era instead of the 40s, meant that medicine was light-years ahead of where it had once been. They could at least ensure that James was vaccinated against many things and that, if his weak immune system did succumb to something, there was probably an anti-biotic for it. Other more frequent medication kept his other health issues under control, which Steve was forever grateful for. If they'd had some of the blood pressure meds in his day, he would've been much healthier.

Darcy, the ever excellent cook and mother, kept him well fed and as healthy possible with her hearty, organic meals and warm care and attention. He was still, however, skinny as a rail and Steve was constantly worried any trip might break him.

One of the upsides to being Captain America's son is that no one ever messed with you. He never had to worry about bullies since he had six Avengers and one very taser-happy mother to protect him. Another upside, though, is that he'd inherited Steve's will-power and was probably the most optimistic little boy in the state of New York.

"Dad, I'm fine," wheezed James, giving away the lie as he reached for the inhaler his dad held out to him.

"Just calm down a bit, kiddo. Those braces are pretty sweet, but they don't make the asthma go away too."

"I know, I know. I'll be fine though. Now I can run faster and get strong like you."

Steve ran a hand through his hair, trying not to let his inner struggle show too much on his face. A by-product of optimism, one which was becoming hard for Steve to handle, was James' eagerness to grow up so he could be as strong as his father. He'd run around Stark Tower, attempting to ignore his body's protest to the physical exertion, convinced that he'd get stronger from it in the long run.

Darcy entered the living room with a laundry basket on her hip, looking much more housewife-y than Steve knew she really was. As she came through to the kitchen, James smiled his huge smile and went over to show her the new braces. She took one of the tissues she always kept in her pockets and wiped James' nose which had begun to run again and smiled, admiring Tony's work as James bounced on the spot in excitement.

After his nose had passed his mother's seal of approval, he took off running again through the living room, picking up his toy Captain America shield and pretending to hit bad guys with it and ignoring the small cough that came after a decent round of imaginary punches.

Steve felt Darcy's arm slip around him as she came to stand in the doorway of the kitchen with him, watching their son's heroic efforts.

"He's just like you, you know?" she smiled. "I say it so much, but I can never get over how true it is."

"Too much like me, though…" Steve sighed as James gave a particularly spectacular cough.

"But more importantly, he's a fighter, just like you. He's never going to let any of it get him down."

"When he gets older though, what happens when he's not like me?"

"If you think he'll resent you, that'll never happen. He might not totally understand what the serum did right now, but he will. The most important thing is he's like you in here."

She gave him a poke near his heart and Steve was suddenly reminded of a man all those years ago who'd done the same. One who now lent his name to the middle name of the boy wreaking havoc in the living room.

He smiled softly and gave his wife a one-armed hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"We are going to have to tell him, at some point, that punching Hitler isn't actually going to be able to happen in reality."

Darcy shrugged.

"He can punch Tony all he wants. He runs the place like a dictatorship anyway. I think he qualifies."

Steve can only laugh and watch his son, realizing he couldn't be prouder that James is just like him.


End file.
